North Of The Equator
by thelilacfield
Summary: Now, Kurt knows that he is free to unbutton Blaine's shirt, sometimes push it off if they have the time, and Blaine knows that he can slide his hands beneath Kurt's shirt, but both of them know that, for the purposes of respecting each other, their bodies cease to exist between the hips and the knees.


It's Bobbi's fault. Because we watched TFT today. While whining about the box scene conspiracy. And discussing the fluffy unicorn and Kurt pillow huggles if Klaine breaks up. Anyway, enjoy the fic.

Also, inspired by this piece of fanart (evarren . tumblr / post / 28306867225 / my-commission-from-luckypressure-its-perfect-and)

* * *

North Of The Equator

Blaine's music continues to blast around the room as Kurt pulls Blaine back into the kiss when he tries to pull away, dragging him down onto the bed. Blaine props himself up on his elbows, a small grin twitching the corners of his mouth. "Are you hinting?" he asks.

"No," Kurt says immediately and forcefully, digging his teeth in his lower lip to stop a disappointed groan escaping as Blaine rolls off him and sits up against the perfectly plumped pillows. "Maybe a little bit."

"We have to wait until you're ready," Blaine says, just reiterating a fact Kurt's heard dozens of times before, the first time Blaine asked to undo a few buttons and loosen their ties and Kurt moaned simply at the thought, over summer when they could walk around with shirts off and Kurt was constantly whisking Blaine into empty rooms for a covert ten-minute makeout session before they were undoubtedly cockblocked by one thing or another, the first time he tried to slide his hands into Blaine's back pockets as they kissed and that simple attempt led to the 'no hands below the waist' rule.

"But what if I am ready?" he asks, pursuing the issue. "Sometimes I think you're not ready or you…you don't want me. Don't you want me, Blaine? If you don't, please tell me now to save my embarrassment."

"Kurt, of course I want you," Blaine says quickly, sounding shocked that Kurt would even think of saying that, stroking Kurt's back soothingly. "I just…I worry about pushing your boundaries too far. Like the first time I kissed you and you didn't expect it and I kind of _forced_ it on you-"

"No, honey, stop, Blaine, _stop_!" Kurt exclaims, putting a finger to Blaine's lips to stop his pointless monologuing. "You know I wanted you to kiss me for a long time and if I was uncomfortable I would've pushed you away. And I know you worry too much about me after what happened with Karofsky, but you are not him. You are my boyfriend, and I love you, and I always want you to kiss me. And…and maybe touch me a little bit." After yet another involved heart to heart on the subject of their sex life, Kurt sighs heavily and bounces a little on the bed. "So, can we go back to making out now?"

"You're lucky I'm in love with you," Blaine murmurs with a slight chuckle, sliding his hands down Kurt's side to toy with the hem of his shirt as they lie back down again. Kurt just smiles happily and pulls Blaine down into a kiss, triumph sparking in his stomach when Blaine braces his hands on the mattress, already groaning softly, happily.

So much has changed since the first time they kissed. Gone are the tentative little questions of what's all right, the wondering of where boundaries can be pushed and where they must be strictly adhered to, the nervous shakes in hands that barely move from their original positions of cupping faces or clutching hands, the pulling back to make sure it's okay to do before tongues are brought into the embrace.

After eight months together and knowing that they're in love, everything is very different. Now, Kurt knows that he is free to unbutton Blaine's shirt, sometimes push it off if they have the time, and Blaine knows that he can slide his hands beneath Kurt's shirt, but both of them know that, for the purposes of respecting each other, their bodies cease to exist between the hips and the knees.

Not that that particular rule stops Kurt from rocking his hips back and forth between the mattress below him and Blaine's body suspended above him, soft breathy little moans rumbling in his throat when Blaine's tongue traces his teeth. Kurt would smile to himself, if his mouth was currently preoccupied giving as good as he's getting from Blaine to him, when he feels Blaine's hard-on against his thigh, wondering if tonight will be the night he'll finally achieve the realisation of the fantasy he's had since pretty much the first time they lay on Blaine's bed in the Dalton dormitory and kissed for hours, the fantasy of fully-clothed frottage.

Unfortunately for his teenage libido, Blaine immediately pulls away and flops heavily down onto the bed next to him. "We should cool off," he says, breathless and flushed, hair escaping the gel helmet and beginning to curl around his ears, eyes dark with want, red marks decorating his jaw from Kurt kissing along all the spots he knows make Blaine only want him more.

"How long have we got until your mum gets back?" he asks, sitting up and straightening his shirt, shedding one of his layers. Making out is a whole hell of a lot of warmth, and sometimes he curses his addiction to layering even if he does adore the fashion statement and (almost more) teasing Blaine.

"About ten minutes," Blaine says, casting a cursory glance at the luminous numbers reflected from the clock on his bedside table. "She can't come home to find me like this, she barely tolerates her precious baby dating as it is."

"If we only have ten minutes, I propose approximately seven more minutes of making out, then three, if you consider your mother the great time-keeper she truly isn't, to cool off and fix your hair so you don't look so well-fucked," Kurt says, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth. A blush rises in his cheeks, but Blaine actually growls and tackles him down into the mattress, already kissing him hard enough to make his lips tingle.

"Kurt," Blaine murmurs as Kurt slides his hands into Blaine's back pockets. Kurt stops kissing him for a brief few seconds, smiling hopefully and hoping that Blaine's next few words will be something along the lines of, 'Feel free to grope my ass while I hump you.' Blaine just smirks slightly and reminds him, "Hands north of the equator only."

* * *

Allow me to roll in the happy fluffy feels, which I need after the horror of Ryan Murphy's tweets yesterday.

Please let me know what you thought if you enjoyed it! :)


End file.
